Harry Potter and the Great Awakening
by AwfulLawful
Summary: As the price of being a living Horcrux for so long comes to light the world around Harry changes once again. Meanwhile the Ministry rules in favor of the Malfoys as defectors and seek a way to remove their Dark Marks; with disastrous results.
1. Prometheus Unchained

And now for the meanest thing I've ever done to Harry in a fanfiction: the story begins less than a paragraph after the last line of the book before the Epilogue. The poor man doesn't even get to sleep after the final battle. May he forgive me. I took liberties with the Horcrux creation process here because we don't know exactly what they are besides the basic concepts stated in cannon.

Note: the first five paragraphs of this story are verbatim from the book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling. I merely note these five chapters because they directly preclude the fanfiction. They are not mine, and I make no profit from this story.

* * *

"Tamper with the deepest mysteries — the source of life, the essence of self — only if prepared for consequences of the most extreme and dangerous kind."

~The first of Adalbert Waffling's Fundamental Laws of Magic

"I'm putting the Elder Wand," he told Dumbledore, who was watching him with enormous affection and admiration, "back where it came from. It can stay there. If I die a normal death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won't it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That'll be the end of it."

Dumbledore nodded. They smiled at each other.

"Are you sure?" said Ron. There was the faintest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Elder Wand.

"I think Harry's right," said Hermione quietly.

"That wand's more trouble that it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might being him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime"

He put the Elder Wand in his pocket and put a hand on Ron's shoulder to steady himself. He was exhausted, and sore, and generally felt as if he may faint before getting to his bed. A dizzy nauseous feeling had been creeping up on him and spreading through his belly since he had stopped casting, though he had been so busy he barely noticed it at first, but now it was beginning to spread and get worse. He sincerely hoped he wasn't getting sick.

Dumbledore nodded at him. "I think we all have, Harry."

Harry smiled at him and took three steps before pausing. He put his hand on his stomach. The world began to swirl and bend around him as if he'd been hit in the head by a Bludger.

"Harry?" Hermione asked in concern, just before he fell to his knees and let out a terrible, soul-scorching scream. "Harry!

* * *

It had been a horrible two hours. Hermione had no idea what to do for the better part of the chaos. She and Ron had managed to carry Harry to Madame Pomfrey only for her to examine him in absolutely every way she knew how and find nothing. There was no apparent reason for his debilitating pain; not an injury, curse, illness or poison they were able to detect. Harry was writhing and screaming as if he were under the Cruciatus and there was absolutely nothing wrong with him that any healer could tell.

Doctors had been called in from St. Mungoes and several had Flooed to Hogwarts from various locations around the world as the news of Voldemort's demise and Harry's subsequent collapse spread. No cause for his pain could be found and the best they could do was continue to administer potions for sleep and pain relief and calm that utterly failed to aid him. He had been tied to a bed at last, since he had been trying inexplicably to hurt himself in his madness, and all he could do now was thrash and wail. The binds were rope, as spells had ceased to affect him as well; he simply broke through them like mist.

As well as the mysterious incapacitating pain Harry was going through, his magic was flaring wildly. His eyes glowed brightly as green flames and his hair stuck up as if he had hit by a bolt of lightning. Objects were floating around him and would crash to the floor or fly through walls as if intangible and land rooms away completely undamaged. A Healer's pocket had ruptured during one of his fits and all of the coins in it had landed on the floor on their sides instead of heads or tails, then rolled away quietly to a corner somewhere and disappeared. The candles in the room flared like pulsars in no discernible pattern and the flames on each one had turned a different color. At a peak of the activity Rom swore he saw the goblet on the side table melt away while the water that had been in it remained stationary in midair before freezing and 'falling' upward through the ceiling. Nobody had seen it, of course, because they were busy trying to banish the extra set of badly deformed arms Harry had just grown on his back, which had subsequently broken because he was strapped to the bed and they had no room to exist there.

Through it all Harry did nothing but scream and his voice was getting hoarser as time went by. It was all very confusing and very heart-wrenching to see.

Hundreds, possibly a thousand or more, had gathered outside the castle in the time it had taken for Hermione to break and run out of the room they had put Harry in, holding a vigil outside to support him in any way they could. Bluebell flames were held aloft in their wands – the Wizardkind equivalent of a candlelight vigil – and the entire Castle Grounds were bathed in the gentle glow as they waited and watched and hoped and prayed that Harry Potter would live through this mysterious affliction. Some guessed he had been cursed with something of Voldemort's own making before he died, which would trigger if Potter won. Others supposed the Bond Harry shared with Voldemort must have had some terrible side effect that had gone unforeseen due to the length or strength of it. Others still, who had heard of his walk into the Forbidden Forest, believed Death had come to claim the boy that had escaped him twice. Silly though it was, that last thought had prompted them to put Harry's Invisibility Cloak over him in the hopes that it may dissuade Death from trying to take him.

Of course, that didn't work.

As she ran to her destination, Hermione cast a Sonarus and hollered out into the Great Hall. She had an idea, but she needed help to achieve it. The shout prompted the remaining D.A. and many Professors, a few Aurors and most of the Order of the Phoenix that still lived to gather in the Library where Madame Pince saw the look on Hermione's face and immediately got the hell out of her way.

"Look everywhere!" she commanded. "Open, Restricted, Archival, everything! Books, Scrolls, Tablets; I don't care! I need information on Horcruxes! Magical Containers. Ghost Jars. Anything that holds or contains magic or spirits, do you understand? I need the information on a vessel for a soul fragment, or ways of storing magic outside of a person. Go to the Professor's Offices, your homes and the Ministry itself if you have to, if you run out of places to look here. Bring me everything even slightly relevant! Luna, track down Slughorn; he may know something that wasn't in Secrets of the Darkest Art. Neville, stay here and help me sort what they bring back. We haven't much time."

Dumbledore, who had come out of his portrait in the Headmaster's Office and had been following Harry around with as much panic as everyone else, called out from a frame on the wall nearby. "What are you looking for, my dear girl? Haven't you already memorized every letter of that passage concerning Horcruxes and the like from Secrets of the Darkest Art?"

"Nothing in it said anything about what would happen if a soul was taken from the Horcrux without destroying the item that piece of the soul was contained in. It was only 'you have to destroy the item beyond repair to destroy the soul fragment'. Horcruxes aren't meant to be separated per the instructions. I need to know if there has ever been a Living Horcrux before Voldemort did it! There isn't reference in that book to inanimate versus animate vessels. What if living beings can't lose the fragment once they've merged without side effects? The only one we know of was Nagini, and she was killed to get the fragment out. Even Quirrel died when the separation took place, so we don't know if that was the cause or effect. We don't have any reference for this case. I need to know if separating the soul fragment from a living Horcrux without destroying it causes damage!" she explained frantically. "If we know that, we'll at least have a starting point!"

For the first four hours they did nothing but explain the Horcrux issue to those who didn't know and fetch and sort and eliminate and track down only the most relevant bits and pieces of script that may be a key element. It seemed to Hermione, and Slughorn once he had arrived, that the texts containing the any relevant elaboration on the original instructions had been destroyed by Voldemort to keep anyone else from doing what he had done; to avoid the competition of another possibly immortal Wizard.

They managed to track down some slightly relevant facts, referencing something similar to a Horcrux used in Ancient Sumeria that was just different enough to be irritatingly useless. Luna eventually proved to be their saving grace. She had been looking in books Hermione had actually shouted at her about because they weren't related to the topic at hand. At some point it became pointless to argue and Hermione had simply let her rummage through books titled "Growing Wizardkind; A Guide to Raising Magical Children" and, inexplicably, "Magical Me". She had the books laid out and a page selected in each one for looking at, and called Hermione over.

"Did you ever get pains in your fingers when you were training with your wand in first year?" she asked serenely. "I did. So did Lockhart."

Hermione put her face in her hands and tried not to slap her. "Yes, Luna. Why?"

"Because it was our little bodies getting used to more magic flowing through them as we learned to use stronger and stronger spells. It says right here; 'Growing Witches and Wizards often feel tingles or even pains as they grow and learn to channel magic more effectively, because their bodies are growing accustomed to more advanced levels of magic. The same can be said of learning to use wandless or wordless magic, even as adults training in these areas of advanced study, small pains can occur'." Luna smiled and held the book out to Hermione so she could read the passage. "It's the same thing that happens when one exercises physically. One has to get used to the strain slowly over time."

"What does that have to do with Harry!?" Hermione demanded fiercely.

Luna's gentle smile faltered. "Oh, dear. You're usually so good at puzzles. Did I win this one?"

"Win wha-" Hermione stopped mid-shout and snatched the book roughly from a now broadly smiling Luna. She carried it over to Secrets of the Darkest Art and read the Horcrux passage for the thousandth time. "Oh. Oh, no."

"You see?" Luna said. "I know it doesn't help, but at least we know now."

Slughorn looked between the two books in confusion. "What? What have you found?"

Hermione wrung her hands miserably. "Call everyone back. We know what's wrong with Harry."

"Really?" the Slytherin Head asked in relief. "How can we help him?"

Hermione's lip trembled. "We _can't_."

* * *

They had gathered close enough to a wall that Dumbledore could take part in the conversation. "Has your theory proved true?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No. No, there isn't any difference between a living or inanimate Horcrux. The problem isn't that Harry was a Horcrux; it's that he was not made one deliberately. Voldemort didn't mean to do it; didn't even know it happened, so he didn't follow the proper steps in the creation process. That's what caused this problem. Harry was essentially a flawed or partial vessel because one of the crucial steps was missed."

"What step was that?" Neville asked.

McGonagall rubbed at her forehead to relieve the tension there. "I must admit I am unfamiliar with it as well."

"Technically he wasn't one because those have to be created deliberately, and Harry's assimilating the piece of Voldemort's soul that broke off when his parents were killed was an accident. It made him sort of… a Semi-Horcrux; containing a soul fragment without any of the bells and whistles that actually make a Horcrux work properly."

"So what does this have to do with him being so sick?" Ron asked.

Hermione frowned. "I will not get into what I found. It made me sick. Literally, I left halfway through reading the instructions to do it. What I can tell you is this: one of the steps is to infuse the intended vessel with power to sustain the soul within it until it levels out on its own. It takes an exceedingly powerful Wizard to do it. When Harry assimilated the piece of Voldemort's soul no power was transferred, only the fragment was. Harry was sustaining the fragment on his own."

"So, Harry was fueling it… keeping it sustained on his magic without knowing it," McGonagall observed.

"Yes, and it gets deeper than that." Hermione took out her notes and showed them to everyone. "When a wizard as powerful as Harry is born the signs of their magic are visible almost immediately. Families with a budding prodigy see floating lights, hear sounds, things move by themselves, they can't seem to keep the toys out of the crib, and things like that."

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, all these things happened when I was a baby, and I know the Potters experienced the same things with Harry too, up until the night of the attack. Then he went to the Dursleys."

Seamus scratched his neck. "I'm amazed those horrid Muggles didn't chuck him out when all that stuff started up."

"That's her point," Luna said. "They didn't have those problems because Harry didn't have the power to do it anymore. All those things stopped."

"Right!" Hermione grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled it a bit. "The soul fragment was draining Harry's magic, eating it to sustain itself like a bloody parasite. Harry had to get stronger just to keep from ending up a Squib, didn't he? Everything he did from breathing to moving to eating required expending magic to keep from passing out."

"Sounds like training with weights on," Neville observed sensibly. "Harry had magic-blocking shackles on, and he had to get stronger to have any magic left for himself."

Ron groaned. "So all that time Harry was training and fighting and learning and flying his broom at half his actual magical strength?"

Hermione nodded. "Or less. And now that Voldemort is gone… the weights are off. All that power he had been using to support a soul fragment, at least half of everything he had - likely more, is suddenly available for use. That power surge is what's making him sick. The amount of magic he was used to having multiplied instantly. That isn't normal for a body to endure. Power like his is supposed to develop gradually as one ages. This is like putting lightning through an electrical line – he can't handle his own power because his body is only used to having so much available, and it's tearing him apart from the inside."

Neville winced. "Harry's own magic is killing him."

As they all began to get a feeling of intense helplessness, Harry continued to scream.


	2. Realms and Relatives

I'm so sorry for leaving you hanging after the admittedly necessary drama of Chapter 1, everybody. Occasionally I have to stop writing and do that 'work' thing that pays my bills and buys my food and keeps the internet running. I honestly didn't intend to take so long to update this.

* * *

_"Fighting hard to protect yourself and your relatives is good for your genes, but when captured and escape is not possible, giving up short of dying and making the best you can of the new situation is also good for your genes." __**~Keith Henson**_

Ten hours total. That was how long Harry lie strapped to a bed shrieking with every bit of strength he had before he finally lost consciousness. There was no help to be had for him. If there had been something wrong then they might have had some luck banishing a poison or venom, curing an illness or healing an injury, or dispelling a curse. When a Wizards' own magic has turned against him, though, there is nothing to be done but wait and see if he could adjust to the surge; and wait they did.

Ginny had taken up the place beside him and merely sat there helplessly; unable to do anything but wash the sweat from his face with a cold cloth from time to time and speak comforting words he couldn't hear. She had been there since the moment Fred's body had been washed and dressed and preserved for viewing before the funeral which would come in time, and helped in performing similar honors for many of the rest who died in the great battle. She had neither eaten nor slept, exhausted and silent, and seemed to have resolved she would not rest until Harry did.

Hermione and Ron had done all they could. Though they loved their friend and wanted to help him they knew better; it would be far more helpful to him to rest and be ready to aid him when the situation changed. Most of those who were not currently involved in the Vigil outside, the preservation and honoring of the dead, the healing of the injured, or the feeding of those who were working had gone to bed. Hermione and Ron curled up together in his four-poster in the boy's dormitory and slept.

Nobody cared enough about decorum to stop those who remained from comforting one another in this way. Most of the Boys dormitories' didn't have spells to keep girls out, as when they had been constructed it was generally believed that only the girls needed protection from infiltrating boys. All over the castle couples had gone to bed together, siblings had crossed Houses to sleep in the same rooms, Students had gone home with their families if they could, and Parents who could not bring themselves to leave just yet had stayed to rest in the Castle.

It wasn't even twilight and everyone was asleep who could be; all but those holding their Bluebell Flames around the Castle. They stayed, and kept hoping and wishing and praying for the Boy-Who-Lived to continue doing so.

When he finally stopped his manic thrashing and went still it seemed as if he had died. The initial check for a heartbeat revealed a stillness of the body that made Madame Pomfrey wail in despair before everything suddenly flared with power again and the candles sparked like fireworks until they burned down completely and went out. In that moment Harry's heart began to beat again. That last burst of Wild Magic signaled that a great change had taken place and he had successfully absorbed the last of the great swell of strength that had assailed his body from his core.

"He's alive," Pomfrey said breathlessly in the dark of a castle room in early evening with no inner light. She lifted her wand to illuminate the room while Ginny lit more candles.

The Weasley daughter asked, "Is he awake?" while she worked.

"No. I think for now he will sleep, and good thing too. The poor dear needs it. As do you, Miss Weasley." Pomfrey removed the ropes and let Harry lie limp and pale under the blanket, a faint movement of the chest his only sign of life as he slept eerily still.

There was no argument or comment following. Ginny simply lay back in the chair next to Harry's bed and stared at him until her eyes closed to rest them while Madame Pomfrey set about curing the damage Harry had done to himself while he had struggled. Torn ligaments and muscles needed to be mended, popped joints reset, and teeth fixed as he had ground his jaw so tightly many of them had shattered.

After the minor fixes Pomfrey frowned. Once again Harry was laying off kilter, and she sighed in resignation. "Dear, help me turn him over. Those bloody arms have grown back again."

Ginny's eyes snapped open and she bent her head to glimpse underneath Harry's back. She gaped. "Those aren't arms," she said sharply. Ginny stuck her hand under Harry's shoulder to lean him forward.

Madame Pomfrey and Ginny shared a look of shock and amazement as they beheld a pair of badly broken and twisted pitch black wings. This time, no matter the method, Pomfrey could not remove them. All she could do was mend them, lie Harry on his front, and wait for him to wake up.

As a great cheer erupted from the vigil-keepers outside the Castle at the word their savior had apparently fought off a curse (which was the only explanation that they were going to give thus far) Ginny went to find Hermione. This would require a bit of explaining, and despite her weariness Ginny wasn't about to get hollered at for not informing Harry's closest friends of such a development.

* * *

"Oh, Merlin! Now there's **two** of you!"

Harry muttered darkly and rubbed his face with his palms. He had only just opened his eyes in the blinding white again after having been there mere hours before and now there were TWO old men looking at him fondly. After the day he'd had, all it did was irritate him. It hadn't occurred to him it would be possible, but he had even more respect for the Longbottoms and planned to start visiting them regularly if he was still alive, which he was uncertain of just yet.

Dumbledore was, of course, there. Harry had expected him to be.

The other man was... odd to say the least. He was wearing robes the like of which Harry had never seen that he could remember. Of course he had the long, white hair and wrinkled face of a typical old man, but the nose was a wonder unto itself. Harry wondered if it wasn't a foot long or more. In his hand he held a fan made of black feathers. They looked to be made of the same feathers on his own wings, which Harry thought was odd but no more weird than the multi-species war he had just been a part of. He took a breath and decided to go with it.

The long-nosed old man chuckled cheerfully. "I was under the impression you were quite fond of your late Headmaster."

"I am, I just don't think I could handle any more of him!" Harry snapped. "Forgive my temper but I've just died for the second time in twenty-four hours and this time it was HELL. At least the Killing Curse was quick! Is this another of those 'you have a choice' moments, or should I resign myself and pick a compartment?" He motioned to the train angrily, but didn't get off the floor. He was tired, and the elders hadn't given him any instructions yet. Truth be told he didn't care which happened at the moment so long as he got some bloody REST.

The long-nosed man smiled at Dumbledore. "Oh, he's a bit of a spark, isn't he?"

"He has his moments," Dumbledore agreed. "Generally no, but circumstances being what they are… you understand, don't you?" At the other man's nod Dumbledore continued. "Harry, my boy, I'm only here as a guide. You always have a choice with me. Your ancestor, however, has other plans. I'm afraid he isn't letting you pick your fate today."

Harry gave up and fell onto his back, folding his hands behind his head as if to take a nap. "Let's hear it, then. If I close my eyes for a bit, I'm still listening. Really."

"Oh, get up!" the long-nosed man snapped and rapped Harry soundly on the head with his staff until the younger man's ears rang.

"Ow! Alright, fine." Harry stood up and brushed off before folding his arms in annoyance. He gave the newcomer an incredulous look and listened. Briefly he wondered how that had hurt if he wasn't in his body, but he still felt solid enough so didn't think too hard on it. It was a good rule not to think too much on anything if you were dead. The veil being what it was, Hermione was going to have a hell of a time adjusting if she wasn't careful. The afterlife didn't always allow for things like effects to follow things like causes. Sometimes it was the other way round. And he hadn't even crossed yet.

The long-nosed man nodded, pleased with this. "I'm very proud of you, you know. Nobody else has done it. Since the moment my blood entered your family line a thousand years ago there hasn't been a single Witch or Wizard in the descendants to waken the sleeping wealth of power I left in the progeny. All that time I spent watching one ordinary caster after another lead normal lives and die normal deaths one right after another from my place here at the crossroads was exhausting, as well as rather boring. But now I have a little hero here to wield my strength in my stead, and I can finally cross over."

They stared at each other a moment. The old man said nothing, Harry said nothing. Finally the old man cleared his throat. "Aren't you interested at all?"

"Oh, sorry," Harry blinked in surprise. "I'm used to him-" he motioned to Dumbledore, "-continuing whether I'm ready or not."

"Harry!" Dumbledore chided, a bit insulted. They ignored him.

Harry put his hands on his hips now and sighed. "I'd like to know your name, though, before we go much further."

"I am the Daitengu Sojobo," he said inclining his head only a little, ", of Kurama-yama in Kyoto."

Harry actually paused to try and mouth those words, failed miserably, and frowned. "Say that again?"

Dumbledore snickered helplessly.

"For heaven's sake! Just call me 'Ancestor'." Sojobo snapped.

Harry smiled at last. He was beginning to recognize his own temper in this oddly-shaped man, and the fact that he now felt a familial connection made him a bit giddy. "You're really one of my great-great-grandfathers or something?"

"You would have to add many more 'greats', but yes."

"Excellent! What's this about sleeping power?" Harry asked.

"My blood," Sojobo explained, ", contains my strength. All of my descendents have the potential to unlock it, but only two, ever, have done so-"

"You just said nobody had," Harry pointed out.

His ancestor balked. "Did I? Oh, sorry. Which world is this?" he asked Dumbledore.

"Living World," Dumbledore specified.

"Right! So... none here, but two have elsewhere. The lock is a certain amount of strength I put into it, you see. Only after passing that predetermined amount of sheer magical power is one able to unlock the strength I have left in my kin. You have done so, as the first/third. It's funny, you know. The first time it happened was an accident as well. I'm beginning to think the spirits are playing games with us."

Harry rubbed his temples. "I haven't got strong enough to unlock anything like that! The only reason I beat Voldemort was luck, manipulation and planning. My power had little to do with it."

Sojobo looked to Dumbledore with a smile. "Is he always this difficult?"

"Yes," the wizard grinned. "Isn't it grand?"

"He will certainly suit the purpose this power is set for, yes." Sojobo let his fingers play upon his long beard thoughtfully. "I don't think he will have to try very hard at all."

Harry growled. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about!?"

"Don't bother. His friend Miss Granger will figure it out and explain it to him in a way he'll understand. She always does," Dumbledore laughed.

"Very well," Sojobo sighed wearily. "My heir is in place and I can finally rest these old bones."

"So what happens when you cross over?" Harry asked suddenly.

The Ancestor quirked a bushy brow at him. "How should I know?"

Harry frowned. "You're dead, aren't you?"

Sojobo laughed. "Son, what makes you think I'm dead? I'm retiring!"

Dumbledore smiled. "Not everyone at the crossroads is dead, Harry. Some are merely walkers between worlds."

"Wha-?" Harry began, but the old man put a palm firmly on Harry's chest and pushed. Harry felt as if he was falling miles.

"It's time to wake up now." Dumbledore said to him kindly.

Harry's eyes began to close weakly and he started to feel burning again. "But-"

* * *

"WAKE UP!" Ron shouted at him.

Harry's eyes snapped open. He gasped for breath in the medical wing bed he'd been on face-down. He groaned as the soreness of his ordeal crept into his awareness.

"How do you feel?" Ginny asked gently, while Ron winced from the long nails she was currently jabbing into his side.

"Can I answer that after I have tea?" Harry groused, voice slightly muffled by the pillow he was speaking halfway into. "At the moment I feel like Fluffy decided I was a chew toy."

"Not to belittle your problems, Potter, but most of us do," McGonagall laughed. "Though you seem to have only gotten stronger for it. Tell me; what do you remember?"

Harry winced. "Er… not anything I'd like to discuss?"

"Meaning…?" Ron pressed.

"Meaning there's only so many ways to describe wanting to tear your own skin off and not knowing why you want to do it, short of 'I must be mad'," Harry clarified. "And none of them are pleasant."

Luna smiled serenely at him. "Some magical creatures shed their skin and take the form of humans."

Neville smiled at her. "I don't think that's what he meant."

"I know," she answered airily, "but I wanted to lighten the mood."

"It worked a little," Harry admitted. He shifted only a little, winced and tensed under the force of the bone-deep soreness he was experiencing, and settled back down. "How long was I out?"

"Two days," McGonagall said. "Mr. Weasley took the liberty of waking you when Madame Pomfrey decided you had recovered enough. You've left the world in quite a stir, Mr. Potter."

"About that. I have wings, don't I?" Harry yawned.

"How-?" Neville asked.

"I can sort of feel them, Nev. They're attached to me. And my other-worldy ancestor decided to be very direct about the whole thing and simply tell me what was going on, or at least enough to-"

"What?" everyone but Ron and Hermione echoed.

Hermione rubbed her temples. "This," she said morosely, "is going to be a very long explanation."

Ron paled. "We should call for supper, then, if _she_ said that. We'll be here all night."

* * *

Be gentle with your reviews, please - this was not as well done as I would have liked due to time constraints. I am essentially posting my rough draft, so that I can work on the heinous explanation Hermione is about to go through. It will likely be the entirety of the next chapter.


	3. The First Lesson of the New Year

This chapter doesn't flow terribly well, and for that I apologize.

LeaniaSTL I laughed through a good portion of that, waiting for Harry to scream. I'm surprised he held out.

Silence: But reviews make me happy and the happy makes me write. T.T;;

delia cerrano: Better explained here.

ShinigamiFangirl: MASSIVE screw up there has been fixed. Sorry about that.

Auctoritas: One is always one's own worst critic... and in rare cases it may prevent progress. Thank you for the encouragement.

* * *

Luna was absolutely entranced by Harry's wings. The moment she was able to get his attention after he had explained his walk with Dumbledore in the place between worlds she had pleaded with him to look them over. Harry found himself shivering involuntarily as she ran her hands over them, poking and prodding in the places she found interesting and tugging gently at the smallest feathers to see if they would come out. It wasn't uncomfortable, more like a tickling feeling that made him shudder whether he tried to sit still or not.

"Are you done?" he asked while Hermione was laying out her notes to share.

"Do I have to be?' Luna almost pouted. "I've never seen a Tengu up close before. All I saw was a drawing, and you don't even have a beak." With that she reached out and lightly poked the tip of his nose with her finger.

Harry bit his tongue and let her continue. Sometimes she was too damned cute and no matter how annoying her current path of insanity was you felt bad stopping it. He really hoped she wouldn't ever get into her mother's 'experiment' mode, because he doubted she'd survive. He looked to Hermione instead.

"How do I have Ancestors from Japan?" he asked her bluntly. "I'm drawing a blank on that."

"It makes sense," Hermione sighed. "The prospect of you having Veela ancestry is plausible given they live in this area of the world."

"If I have Veela ancestry then how the bloody hell am I a Tengu?" Harry demanded tersely.

Hermione's eye visibly twitched in irritation. "They're the same species, Harry."

"Yeah, I don't buy that," Harry said. "They live in two completely different parts of the world, they look different, they-"

Luna interrupted, "Hermione is right, Harry."

"There are no male Veela!" Harry said in frustration.

"Yes," Luna agreed. "There are no female Tengu either. They're different genders of the same species identified by different names. Like a Peacock is a male Peafowl, and the Peahen is the female Peafowl."

"So it's basically like saying 'Witch' and 'Wizard'," Ron observed, yawning.

Hermione nodded. "Exactly. It makes sense for Harry to have a Tengu ancestor because Veela live in this part of the world and obviously you're male, therefore a Veela in the family line would make you a Tengu. In species where there is no pair bond formed the territories are usually exclusive to each gender with no overlap. Tengu prefer to live in dense forests and mountain ranges near Asia so they can make strongholds out of them, whereas Veela live in watery places primarily in Europe because it's more beneficial to the fledglings. They only meet during a specific mating season and go their separate ways. Once the young Tengu get old enough they simply leave and find a group of males in Tengu areas to grow up in, or if the mother is particularly hard-pressed she'll fly the young males to the edge of a Tengu territory to hand them over to their father or any Tengu that will have them. The young Veela simply stay with the mother's group. Since Sojobo is obviously from a mountain in Japan where other Tengu live, it's not just plausible but very likely that lots of Veela here are his descendants."

"Fine. Can I go back to sleep now?" Harry almost lay back and paused to glare when his wings folded in reaction so fast the edge of one hit him in the face.

Luna tilted her head. "I get the feeling you don't believe us."

"It's not that, I'm just too tired to argue," Harry said.

"At least he's acting like a Tengu," Neville snorted. "They're supposed to be as moody as Veela."

Harry knocked Neville over with his wing.

"That was uncalled for," Luna said, helping him up off the floor.

"I can't help it. I'm _moody_," Harry sneered.

"I see that," Neville chuckled. He had given up being affronted at Harry's mood since he knew well it was something he couldn't help, and at the moment would have little control over. "Maybe we should avoid saying things that may upset him."

"I can hear you," Harry snapped.

Ginny huffed. "Shut up, Harry."

He gave her a mean look that was evenly met. Their stare made the room quiet, but eventually Harry looked down at the floor. "Sorry. I don't know why I'm so short-"

"Because you're a Tengu," Hermione said plainly. "It's normal."

"Fine. Just tell me what you know. I get that I passed some kind of power threshold. What I don't know is how I got there," Harry sighed.

Surprisingly, Ron came to the front. "Voldemort didn't make you a Horcrux on purpose," he said plainly. "He botched it. The bit of him stuck in you was sucking up your magic, so you grew up carrying a bloody boulder around on your power. Now that the boulder is off, it's like you're sodding Merlin or something. What you've been using to carry the boulder is freed up."

"It's more complicated than that!" Hermione complained.

Harry shrugged. "Makes perfect sense to me; all I need is the important bits. Ever thought of being a teacher?" Harry asked Ron.

The redhead snorted. "Bite your tongue."

"Harry," Neville said patiently. "Maybe it's time our resident talking textbook explains what's going on-"

Instead of indulging in a customary combative glare, Hermione simply walked to him with a large tome and hit him soundly with it. He shut up, rubbing the spot she had hit him with the knowledge there would be a large bruise there later. Harry knew this move well so he was silent too.

"May I explain without commentary?" She demanded.

Nobody said anything, though Luna was humming slightly.

"It was said that only Slytherin's Heir could open the Chamber of Secrets because it specifically required someone who could speak Parseltongue." she began. "That's just a fact being convoluted over time into a legend, not a prophecy. Slytherin may have foretold that another like him would rise, but that wasn't an inheritance or a prophecy fulfillment or anything; it's human nature. Genetic traits get passed on, and tere will always be someone who believes a specific sect is better; they'll always latch onto historical figures or ancestors to claim some kind of descendent right to further their cause. Slytherin wasn't capable of creating anything like what you've inherited, Harry. Even the average Tengu or Veela couldn't pull this off. It's something that humans can't do – only those who can exist on completely different realities of power can do this. Incubi and Succibi, Djinn, Ifrit, and Youkai or Demons; and only the extremely powerful ones of them, are capable of creating an inheritance this complicated even if they have the ethereal connection to do it." She crossed her arms and seemed to work out how to voice her thoughts. "It's a bit like a normal genetic phenomenon called an Atavism, in which traits from long-distant ancestors reestablish themselves dozens of generations later by randomly coming back together if two parents from a similar background meet. For example, if two clearly European people had a baby with blatant Asian traits, because in each family line they both had even one Asian ancestor. Even if intervening generations eliminated those traits from being visible, they can still coalesce in later offspring."

"Sort of like when Two tabby cats give birth to a white Persian," Luna observed.

"I was unaware of such a thing," the Headmistress said, looking to Hermione with great interest.

Hermione nodded. "Muggles are only beginning to understand it as well, but the concept in terms of those ethereal creatures I mentioned has existed since before the legend of Merlin and Arthur. Merlin himself was the son of an Incubus, wasn't he?" Hermione said slowly. "In Harry's case, the most powerful Tengu there ever was put a sort of jinx on his family line, so that he could deliberately place such an Atavism with a trigger to activate it. No matter how many generations passed between them, the trigger is activated when one passes a certain power threshold. That's what Sojobo wanted: powerful offspring. So he jinxed his family line to only trigger that inheritance of his particular genes once a pre-determined amount of raw magical strength was achieved, which Harry did when the Horcrux stopped draining him." She sighed. "Honestly, I think the only reason he survived it was because the Tengu blood activated. Humans normally don't have this kind of power. Even Merlin himself was just really clever and skilled in specific areas. His exploits are mostly legendary because he was dealing with royals."

"Sounds bloody stupid to me!" Harry said, a bit pale. "The Gaunts and I came from the same family line – the Peverells, and they were after the old Tengu! He could have given Voldemort this inheritance instead! It was close, wasn't it?"

"I said it was clever, not intelligent," Hermione snapped. "Sojobo set a genetic time bomb that could have gone off in our faces and lost us the war. If you see that idiot again I want you to smack him for me!"

Harry nodded. "Done."

Luna said, "Creatures on that level of power may begin to lose a sense of the 'lesser' creatures around them. He may not have cared who he passed this power on to so long as it went to someone. I heard a Seer once say that all powers eventually come to all sides, so largely speaking it doesn't matter where it goes to. Eventually every side will have it. And correct me if I'm wrong, but Sojobo specified more than one person can inherit, correct? So someday one of your descendants or really any of the many families Sojobo is the root of can come into this inheritance as long as they're strong enough."

Neville groaned. "And just like it was impossible to tell Harry wasn't the Heir of Slytherin because so many generations had been between the old snake and modern times, it'd be absolutely impossible to tell who has this Tengu's sleeping power in them. We just get to wait and hope that another Dark Lord doesn't rise on black wings."

"And that's all, is it?" Seamus asked impatiently.

Hermione gave him a glare. "Am I honestly the only one that knows this? It isn't exactly a mystery, it's just uncommon knowledge here. Didn't any of you get curious and look up the Veela after meeting them?"

"I did," Luna said gently, "I thought you wanted to be the one explaining, so I didn't say anything. Boys typically don't look up the Veela thing. It's a matter of excitement, really. They hear of an all-female creature and think they've got it made if one picks them, but they never consider that there are actually males, they're just considered different things. There is the matter of Harry's territory though. He won't be able to help himself; he'll want one." She looked to him with a smile. "I think you should find one as soon as you can before the urge makes you mean."

"That may be a good idea, but where is he to do so?" McGonagall sighed. "He can't just take over a large portion of the castle, and the forest is too dangerous-"

"No. Not for long." Harry turned a wicked smile to Ron. "I've got a brilliant idea. How would you like it if I got rid of all the bloody spiders in the forest?"

Ron stood up and threw his hands up. "That's perfect! How, though?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm sure we can come up with something."

"Hagrid won't be happy about that." Neville pointed out. "He's really fond of those nasty things."

Luna hummed thoughtfully to herself. "They don't really belong here. Acromantula aren't native to this area of the world. It's really better for them to be where they were meant to be. If for no other reason than because the winter climate here is hard on their little ones and eggs. Let me talk to Hagrid and I'll get him to understand as best I can."

"Thank you," Harry said, knowing that if Luna couldn't convince Hagrid than nobody could.

McGonagall stood and brushed off her robes. "I suppose I'll help you present the idea to the Acting Minister, Potter. You'll need help for this."

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can we just use the Pensieve in the Headmaster's office rather than have me explain everything again?"

"Of course, Miss Granger. You have a family to find, and another to take care of," the Headmistress said kindly.

"Another?" Harry asked, agape.

Hermione's left hand conspicuously disappeared under her right. "Er… about that-"

"Can't leave you two alone for three bloody days, can I?" Harry grinned.

"Bit of a rush, you know?" Ron said quickly, flushing. "She's going back to school next year and I'm," he paused and swallowed. "I'm staying with George in the shop for a while."

For a moment Harry didn't know what to say. Up until now he'd been pleasantly oblivious to all the people they had lost, Fred especially was a heavy one. Harry didn't know what to do beyond put his hand out and put it on his friend's shoulder.

"You should be proud. Of all of us your brothers dealt the first blow to the enemy when Quirrel was here." Luna said brightly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Don't you remember?" Luna asked. "They got in trouble after the first snowfall that year for-"

"-charming snowballs to bounce off the back of Quirrel's turban!" McGonagall finished, eyes wide and smiling.

Neville snorted loudly. "Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed as realization dawned over everyone like a sunrise. "Fred and George pelted Voldemort in the face with snowballs!"

* * *

YES. YES, THEY DID.

Hermione remembers all the tiny things and puts them together to make something awesome.

Luna remembers all the tiny things that were awesome all by themselves.

My top annoyances with this storyline thus far:

Tengu actually ARE territorial, so that particular bad fanfiction trope really applies here; therefore I must use it. Quite grudgingly. Damn it.

Likewise, the whole mating season thing does as well, per my own theory which makes this whole thing work. It simply makes sense. (see; Harry potter and the Last True Pure-Blood; INTERMISSION) Thankfully there are no destined mates, or even long-term matches. Mating season is simply that; mating season. Nothing more.

Harry is a bit snarkier than I like him to be, but Tengu are naturally irascible. The change was necessary, unfortunately. He'll calm down as he gets used to things and his temper is less of an instinct and more of a thing he can control again.


End file.
